I feel like Cerberus,
The three headed guardian of the gates of Hades.
Yet, each head has a different goal.
But will all end up in the same hole.
One says hold on,
Fight the feeling.
Another says we don’t belong,
We’ve reached our ceiling.
The last one makes the most sense.
And decides not to speak in the past tense.
Each has it’s own tune,
One is that if a siren,
Attractive but deadly,
One is soft and sweet,
Like a summer time medley.
One is loud,
With no discernable cause,
All the while waiting for an applause.
But it will not come,
Because their time may be done.
I wish they all would just be one.